Friendship
by RachelMus
Summary: Merida, a wild and wanton princess, finds a way to save both her country and her relationship with her mother through an adventurous friendship with the princess Rapunzel of a neighbouring kingdom.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I awoke before dawn, as usual. This morning felt different however, there was a chill in the air that tasted like blood - that metallic taste that is so dreadful and sickening. But at the time I just shook it off, grabbed my bow, tied my hair back and headed out to my father's archery ranges on Dunbroch Castle lands.

My habit in the morning was to ride out with Angus and shoot from a moving target. I relished the challenge and the feel of the wind in my face was always a welcome change from the warmth of the ever-burning fires in our home. And my mother. Goodness knows she only wanted the best for me but sometimes I couldn't tell which was the more suffocating, her or the fires. However, the other day my beloved horse and companion had strained a fetlock and the grooms said he'd have to keep off it for a few days. So it was standard archery practice that morning.

Archery was something I lost myself in, the relentless pull and tug on the bow, the strain on my muscles as they stretched always in the same way, the way my vision narrowed as I stared down the arrow's length to my target. There would be nothing else when I lifted my bow to my shoulder, naught but my blood in my ears and the fine tickle of the goose-feathers against my cheek. Those hours I spent shooting were always gone too fast, the sun full on risen before my shoulders even began to ache. At the end of my time I surveyed the target. I hadn't been as precise this morning, always shooting slightly to the left. I remember shivering slightly, as if this left-leaning was a sinister omen, combined with that taste of blood on the air... but I wiped it from my mind for it does ill to bode on things when one cannae tell if it be real or no.

My rising early was normally a way of avoiding my mother at breakfast, so that I could laugh and joke with the men-at-arms which, in her eyes, was totally inappropriate. I guess a princess shouldn't be laughing at the kind of bawdy jokes men made, and she certainly shouldn't be eating bits of dried sausage with her fingers. However, this morning my mother awoke early, and I supposed she'd been awake earlier than I because she had large dark circles under her eyes and the gold bands that held her hair back were not so perfectly arranged as usual. I'd always envied my mother for her hair, long, dark and luscious, combed to perfection and held back in the way a queen's should be. My hair was truly an extension of me personality, and it was as alike to my dad's as any two things could be alike. It would never go straight or flat or be held back neat-like but I'd grown first to accept and later embrace it and now I was fiercely proud of the red-orange mane that covered me as a cloak. Did get a bit in the way of me peripheral vision though, hence the occasional search for a ribbon to hold it back (though more often than not I'd lose that poor ribbon in my hair itself)

"Merida!" my mother called to me and with a kind of disgruntled resignation I sat down with her to break my fast, careful not to anger her as I slid my bow under the table rather than on it as was my custom. She started off nicely, the way she always did when she was trying to coax me into something.

"How's Angus doing?" She was only picking at her food.

"Baran the groom says a couple more days and he'll be fine to ride again. Its just a sprain." I reached for the fresh baked bread across the table. That earned me a frown.

'Don't reach Merida dear, ask and I will pass the plate.' Here we go. But she didn't continue and that was mighty odd of her. Finally I broke the silence.

"Is everything alright mother?" I tried to keep my voice light "You seem a wee preoccupied."

"I am a little, yes." But my mother didn't offer any more explanation.

"What's wrong then?" I asked

In answer she passed over a letter, neatly written in purple-blue ink. I scanned it quickly. "It's a royal visit, mother." To the west and south of our proud country, across the sea, there was another, equally drowned in heritage and traditions. The King and Queen, here giving their names as Richart and Cosima, and their daughter, a Princess Rapunzel had extended the hand of friendship towards us in the face of our enemy, those dreadful men south of the wall who had bowed the knee to the bronzed invaders so many years before.

My father, King Fergus of Dunbroch and of the Quartered Tribes had never before seen the Southern men as a threat. If I recall his words were always "That be their side of the wall and this be ours and as long as that line be kept no man must die." And it had worked, perhaps a mixture of me da's fearsome reputation and the fact that most people north of the wall took a bath at most once a year. But the Southerners were massing. Some new King or Lord with some kind of big idea had jumped on a horse and decided he wanted to be King of the North as well as the South. Then he decided he also wanted to be King of the Western Isles and I guess that's when King Richart decided enough was enough. So needless to say, I wasn't too worried. We'd had royal visits before, from other clan leaders, other Kings of other Isles.

"What's biting you ma?" I asked

"Merida, for too long we've pretended there's no threat from the south. The possibility of an alliance could be the balance that makes the Southern King decide to move his troops. And if we offend King Richart, who's to say he won't join with him and wage war on us? This is more than just a royal visit, we walk on the points of swords." My mother perhaps too, had tasted the blood in the air this morning. To me now, my arrows leaning to the left seemed a little sinister too. I was starting to think.

Fortunately me brothers rushed in just at that moment, when the mood was beginning to roll dark as the mist on the highland shores and their laughter provided a welcome distraction from me ma's misery. I picked one of the triplets up, cause only when they stopped moving could I tell them apart. Realizing it was Hubert I put him down real quick 'cause he's been known to bite like a caged bear when he's kept away from the sweet rolls. They were followed in by me da, who was roaring with laughter as the four year olds juggled clubs. Had this been a normal morning, my mother would have remonstrated immediately, but she simply sat and stared at her three devils running round with dangerous weapons and she had this glassy look on her face like she was _scared_ or something. My mother's never scared, not even of my hair. So Dad had to notice something was wrong, and with a glance he silenced the three and reached out for my mother's hand.

"What's wrong Elinor? What's troubling you my sweet?" Wordlessly, she held out the letter to him, like she had to me. Now I love my Da, but I know he has trouble with reading and speaking and well, everything that isn't fighting or intimidating every creature within a thirty league radius. So I told him what was what and he roared with laughter.

"Elinor you can plan this royal visit without blinking an eyelid. How old's their daughter? You could do with a friend, Merida my cub. I'll uncork my best whiskey, we'll shine every weapon in the place and put on a fine show for this Western King!" My mother stood, all the grace and polished anger of a queen.

"This could mean war Fergus! Think on that!" She turned to leave with an incline of her head but my Da caught her arm.

"Not while I live Elinor. Not while I live. Now you will plan this as you have planned this others." Then he turned to me "And Merida will help you and she'll even wear a dress for the grand event! How's that eh? I could almost be a diplomat!" Then he took my mother's chair and helped himself to ham and porridge, chuckling to himself, no doubt highly impressed at his own wit.

My mother gave an exasperated sigh but the scared glassy look had gone from her eyes. I think my mother's greatest joy in life, after tormenting me, of course, was planning and hosting diplomatic affairs. In all honesty she was skilled enough to rule without me Da but she loved him and he loved her and I would suppose sadly that not many would respect a kingdom run by a woman. So he pretended to, being all big and brash and brave, and she actually did, in her quiet dark way with her smooth tongue and her understanding eyes.

However, as much as I respected what my mother did to keep us all safe from being murdered in our beds by one of the Quartered Tribes (blood feuds flowed deep and long in this area of the land) I could not for the life of me understand why I needed to do it too. I could easily accept that my skills lay in the quiet reflection that was archery, whereas my mother's skill was the silver tongue that solved disputes and quelled grown men at a word. And now I had three weeks (courtesy of my Da) of spending time with my mother, trying to tame simultaneously my tongue and most like my hair too, in order to learn everything there was to know about King Richart, Queen Cosima, the Princess Rapunzel and the threatened kingdom of Corona, then throw them the biggest "please form an alliance with us party" in history so that we wouldn't all be slaughtered by the Southern King.

I was summoned to my mother's solar later that day, greeted by great piles of lists and names and diagrams and maps and more pieces of paper than I had ever seen in my entire life. Then the drilling began.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

By the end of the first week I had memorised so many names my head buzzed and I felt dizzy walking up stairs. Me mum started organizing table placements, ordering me that I had to sit next to the Princess and I had to damn well like it or Angus would be kept away from me until I grew old and withered. (Her words not mine) But it was too late. I had already decided I hated the Princess Rapunzel. In my head she was Prissy Punzel, especially as my mother described her to me. Small, thin, delicate, brown hair and great wide eyes. I said she sounded like a sickly cow. My mum hit me with her book of lists. Every day as soon as I could escape from that stuffy room with the ever burning fire, I'd ride Angus (nicely healed up and filled with the same energy that burned in me) out over the moor tops where the wind whistled harshest until I could cool myself down. My mother came from another area of our land you see, where it was warmer, and I don't think Dunbroch Castle, with all its winding corridors and haunting drafts, allowed her the comfort she was accustomed to. When I was riding, I did my best to forget all the names my mother had made me learn, but to no avail. She was just too good at what she did.

Sometime, Baran, the groom, joined my on my rides out, riding and exercising Narach. She was my mother's mare, a gift from my father that was rarely used. So Baran kept the horse in shape and kept me company, but he claimed it was just so Angus and Narach could 'talk.' If Angus hadn't seemed to me so real, capable of listening and responding to what I said, I would have thought of Baran as a fool and done my best to shake him off. I had grown used to his company now though, and it always did do better to ride in these wildlands with a companion. The wind would rip laughter and panted breaths from our lips as we galloped, the horses sure-footed and untamable. Later we would stop and quench our thirst from one of the springs that flowed freely to the lochs, numerous, ageless and nameless. I would share my food with Baran and he would share stories of the stables with me, making sure they made me laugh. Goodness knows I needed laughter at those times. My freedom was not grasped on those horse rides, it was clutched at with desperate hands, so scared was I that it would fly away forever.

The second week my mother did a complete overhaul of our dusty castle, pulling spiders-webs out of corners we had forgotten existed. Armed with a hoard of servants she flung open doors to long closed rooms, threw open windows where the shutters had been barred for generations. She commandeered beeswax and resin, walnut juice and rags and got down on her knees with her men to polish the old wooden furniture till she could see her face in it. My mother, the proud queen, worked from dawn to dusk on Dunbroch lands, getting herself filthy in the process but always doing her duty with a sort of grim satisfaction on her face. We brought in fresh rushes and cleaned the old tapestries that hung the walls. The grates were swept out and all of the bones from previous meals in the great hall were meticulously picked off the floor. My father kept to his word and had his men polish their weapons too, then they were presented for inspection at my mother's feet. She surveyed them with a lifted eyebrow and meekly the men-at-arms slunk off to try again. By the end of that week Dunbroch shone with a kind of proud elegance it had not formerly had. Sunlight carefully infiltrated the windows and for once fire-light was not the only way to see the castle. It was as if everything were thrown into sharp relief, the grey, dark stone of the castle walls lit up by shy rays. Every single crack was visible, every loose thread in a tapestry. All the heads of animal's in my Da's hall had a glassy reflection in their dead eyes, as though they wished they were back in the sunlight. But my castle was beautiful. My home was beautiful.

I didn't mind this kind of heavy duty cleaning, for getting filthy in cobwebs was a relief rather, from the mind-numbing boredom of a stuffy classroom learning names and dates. I threw myself into it with gusto, barely aided by my three younger brothers, who on the first day, discovered miniature suits of armor in a chest in a barred room and were not seen since, the only trace of them being clanking sounds in the walls. I too found my own treasure, a worn and dusty tapestry of one of my ancestors fighting a fearsome demon-bear and I begged my mother to hang it in my chamber. Reluctantly she agreed to have it cleaned, but ran a finger over the areas where the threads were so thin the picture could not be seen. I told her I would work to restore it and she produced a wan smile.

"If it should cause my daughter to pick up a needle than a sword, I would be a fool to deny it." She said, and gave me a quick hug. I admired her more from then on. She didn't like getting dirty any more than I liked learning names, but we had both done both. If she could do it without complaining or going mad, so could I. I did not like to be beat at anything.

I explained this is to Baran on a ride a few days later and he seemed to understand. He knew my deeply competitive nature like I knew the moors of Dunbroch.

"It's like a hand reaching out to another hand." He said. "Neither stretches further, you only meet in the centre and it is a defeat for none and victory for none, too." I laughed at him, pretending to be all wise-like and after a bit he grinned too and challenged me to a race. Baran was as steadfast as a rock, and built like one too, big and strong and broad. He competed in the caber tossing each year and my Da said once he'd truly become a man he'd toss the furthest Dunbroch ever saw. In contrast, he had the gentlest hands I'd ever seen, and I knew me Mum. He could calm horses with a stroke and a quiet word, looking them dead in the eye with these big blue eyes. His hair wasn't quite the same shade as mine, more sort of like autumn leaves than fire, but then my hair-colour ran in my blood; the Royal-Dunbroch blood. His family lived on our land, but his particular skill with hosses had caught my Da's eye and he'd been invited to live in the Castle with the other servants and men-at-arms who made their livelihood through service to the King. So Baran was simple, but wiser than most thought.

Then the third week finally came about and me mother grew real frantic. She was rushing around every where, her pace increased at least three times since the second week. Now she was counting casks, overseeing the slaughtering of animals, the picking of vegetables. For the first time since the last meeting of the Quartered Tribes Dunbroch Castle kitchen was kicked into full productivity. It moved at a snail's pace, groaning like a sleeping tramp, but soon it was running. At least fifty extra women and men were employed from our lands to begin to prepare the feast-food and then to help serve it. They all wore a line of our tartan, too, to show to whom they owed their allegiance. It was a big show, the likes of which I'd certainly never seen before. My brothers even discarded their suits of armor to band together in crazy schemes to steal food from the kitchens, each one more daring than the next.

Before I knew it, it was the day before the Royal family's arrival and I was in my mother's solar, being coached on how to walk and how to stand.

"Don't slouch, Merida my dear, please. When you walk, don't swing your arms, don't take such huge strides, don't lean into them. Your paces must be no more than a foot-length long." She dictated, circling me

"But Mother!" I was aghast "It'll take me forever to go anywhere!"

"Don't tear at your hair when you are frustrated. Keep your face as unemotional as stone. When you want to say something, pretend you are your horse. You cannot speak, communicate through looks. Merida, our dignity is leant us by the way we comport ourselves and the way we speak without speaking." She archly pursed her lips and I understood. I raised an eyebrow back at her, she responded by compressing her lips into a thin line. I inclined my head slightly and a smile flitted across her lips.

"Exactly like that. You will learn." Somehow I knew I'd just lost an argument and reconciled with my mother, all by fractionally moving muscles. Against my will I was intrigued. It was like a tiny battle, played out across a woman's face.

"There won't be war, with there mother?" I asked, suddenly. My mum grimaced at me.

"Not if I have anything to do with it, and not if your father keeps his cool either." She said. "As long as King Richart doesn't try to start a fight with him, we should become allies and then, should the Southern King move, we're as good as victors already."

I nodded, knowing my mother during this visit would be unbearable, always nervous should something be said to anger or offend the Royals. I made a conscious decision to _definitely _be on my best behavior, and try not to get too annoyed at Prissy Punzel.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

My god she was small. We had met the Royal family out on our lands, before the Castle portcullis. The wind had whipped at us for fifteen minutes before the band of banners and horses and trumpets appeared, rising over the crest of the hill upon which our castle stood. Their horses were white and sleek, manes tied like my ma's hair. They were a stark contrast to our horses, black as night and shaggier than the bears that roamed the fords. As they neared I knew immediately they would be cold here. The Royal family three, alike with flowing brown hair and kind faces, were all dressed in delicate silken court-wear. The Queen had a woolen cloak over hers but here we wore our furs in spring. Then all my thoughts ceased when I saw their daughter. She was tiny. She was like a little bundle of flowers, a nose-gay perhaps, all wrapped up in someone's thick dark green cloak. She had short, short brown hair, like it had been shorn from her head recently. She often touched it as though she expected it to have more weight to it. Huge green eyes, most unlike a cow's after all, shone out from this painfully narrow face littered with freckles. From what I could see of her wrists and her feet (_bare feet - _In this land!) the rest of her was like that too, like a little bird, all bones and skin and naught much else.

Then, as she descended gracefully from that great white beast of a horse and curtsied _exactly _as I'd been taught to, I knew that I was looking at my mother's idea of what I should be.I subsequently decided that Prissy Punzel was just as bad as I'd thought she was going to be and we certainly weren't going to be friends. My sulk lasted until the greetings had been performed and I managed to execute a fairly decent curtsey (I thought, though I caught my mum glaring at me) and we'd escorted the family and their men into our great hall.

I think they were glad to be inside, though neither Prissy nor her mother removed their cloaks. The King stoically bore the cold, though once we were beside the roaring great-hall fire I think I heard him sigh a quiet breath of relief. We were all sat at the high table, our men on one side of the hall and Corona's men on the other. King Richart was on my father's right, my mother on his left. The Queen was on her husband's other side, and Prissy Punzel and I sat at our mother's sides. I was glad I didn't have to spend the whole meal entertaining her, for she seemed very quiet. For once I wished my Hubert, Harris and Hamish were here, if only to make the atmosphere a little more relaxed. But they'd been banished to their rooms in order that they might not terrify the Royal guests. Tonight they'd have to make do with terrifying Maudie and though that was fun in itself, they'd done it so many times it was difficult to be original. I spotted Baran on our side of the hall and he winked at me, raising a hand in greeting. I couldn't call out, so I tried my mother's way of communication. I smiled and waggled my eyebrows at him and he chuckled into his soup, nodding. I would be coming to see Angus later.

"Merida, do stop pulling faces!" My mum hissed from the side of her mouth and glum, I turned back to the pea soup I'd had placed in front of me.

During the feast my Da plied King Richart with ale, and when the final course was done, he invited him to his men's hall that they might get bawdily drunk with their men and sing songs all night long. So I found myself in my mother's solar with the Western Queen and her thrice accursed ever-graceful daughter. I fetched my new tapestry, took ten minutes to thread a needle with thread that didn't match and prepared myself for a long evening of complete and utter boredom. Now, there, I was strangely wrong. The Princess grinned at me when I took my seat, evading the ever-watching eye of the mother who barely looked older than her to come and sit next to me on the wooden bench.

"I don't know about you," She started, running her hand through that oddly cropped hair, "But I've spent far too much of my life cooped up sewing in dark rooms. I'd like to feel the grass beneath my feet." I looked at her sideways for a long time, then I glanced at me Mum, who nodded slightly. Wordless communication understood, I dropped the bear tapestry and the needle and just said "Follow me."

As quick as a flash we were in the stables and I was introducing her to Angus. She got on really well with him, almost like I did. She laughed and whispered to him and stroked his big calm face and called him by his name. After a while Baran came in to join us, strolling half drunk because he was two years older than I and he thought this made him manly enough to drink ale with the rest.

"Who's your friend Merida?" He said, sitting down next to the Princess, who was tickling Angus.

"She's the Princess Rapunzel from Corona," I started, before the bird-thin girl interrupted me.

"Oh please, please, just call me Rapunzel." She said. "Honestly, this princess thing is all rather new."

"What do you mean Princess?" Baran clearly wasn't listening to her. But she ignored him.

"I have a horse too, would you like to meet him?" She said, looking only at me.

"I would love to." I loved horses, and I wanted to see how these Westerners managed to tie their hosses' manes so neat and all.

The Royal visitor's mounts were holstered in another part of our rambling stables, but Rapunzel's horse recognised her as soon as she came near. It snickered gently and leaned towards her.

"Hush Maximus, I'm back now" the white beast whinnied gently, then, catching sight of me over her thin shoulder; he did something I've never heard a horse do before - he _growled. _

"Hey!" I cried, holding my hands in the air and stepping backwards into a pile of straw. "He growled at me!"

"I know!" Rapunzel said. "Maximus that was very rude! The Princess Merida is my friend and you must absolutely be nice to her." She fixed him with a stern eye. "Or no apples." To my utter surprise, the horse dropped his head, and blew air out of his nostrils with an accent that could only be described as apologetic.

"He's a very clever horse" was the only explanation that Rapunzel offered for her horse's antics. "And he's very particular about people, here, come and stroke him"

"Are you sure?" I was aghast "I donnae want to get me hand bitten off!"

"Oh he won't, don't worry" I was flashed a little snaggle-toothed smile. "Where's your sense of adventure?" A little gleam passed across those big green eyes and I took the bait.

"Fine," I marched forwards. "I'm not scared of anything! I've climbed mountains that touch the sky, I've fought foes you couldn't even dream of confronting." I put my hand out and stroked Maximus on the nose briefly. "See? Not scared."

Rapunzel just laughed, "Very well, you won." She said. "Is there anything here we can climb?"

"Pshaw is there anything here we can climb?" I flapped my hands at her, "Where do I start?"

Five minutes later we were stood in front of Dunbroch tower with the wind whistling like a possessed beast and night firmly upon us. I'd climbed this tower a thousand times, but never barefoot like Rapunzel was now, and never in the dark. I might be brave but I damn well wasn't stupid. But the little one was shrugging off her cloak, dropping it on the ground as she stood there in a purple dress that hung just above her ankles and was rather too short in the sleeve. This was the first time I'd got a real good look at her body and honestly, I had never been much of a maternal person, but the size of her waist and the jutting of her collarbones just made me want to stuff the poor wee bairn with haggis till she looked at least _human _rather than like a bird. She rolled her toes in the grass and rubbed her hands together, grinning wickedly.

"Are you coming Merida?" She said, and after that I just had to come up because it was as if she'd thrown a glove down.

"I'll race you to the top Rapunzel." and I offered a grin as wicked as her own.

From the moment we started I knew I was fighting a losing battle. Her slim frame and long fingers made it incredibly easy for Rapunzel to shimmy up the tower, using barely visible cracks in the stone as toe and finger holds. The dress she wore now made sense, she could move her arms and shoulders freely, something that I found incredibly difficult in the traditional frock my mother had forced upon me earlier this evening. I reached the top nonetheless, only shortly after she did. Embarrassingly I was gasping for air like I'd never done before, unladylike beads of sweat forming on my forehead and upper lip. I wiped my face with the back of me hand and whistled.

"How are you so good at this?" I slumped down next to her, where she said clutching her knees, staring out at the milky moon that lit the horizon of our lands.

"I said the Princess thing was new to me," She began hesitantly, so I pulled two apples of out my 'secret apple pockets' in my cloak and offered one to her. She took it and held it in her hands as I took a massive bite out of mine and chewed it, looking at her expectantly. She blushed and ducked her head, then told me her story, every so often staring at me earnestly with those big green eyes as if begging me to believe her.

"When I was very young, I was kidnapped by a witch."

"Nasty types witches." I agreed.

"Yes... She kept me as her prisoner for eighteen years because I was blessed with a gift. My hair." She stopped and her hand went to the crown of short hair that topped her head. "My hair was imbued with magical properties. I could heal, turn back time, stop death... I could do almost anything. It was strong and supple and gold."

Now I saw why she was referring to it in the past tense.

"There were lanterns which I could see from my window, every year on my birthday. I was curious and I was ready to see the world past the tower in which I was kept. So I asked my mother...the witch I mean, to bring me paints for my birthday which would take three days to fetch. When she was gone I used my hair as a rope to escape from the tower window." She sighed. "I won't bore you with details of my journey, but I made a great many friends, and upon arriving in Corona, I was recognized as the lost Princess almost immediately. I could not believe it, for I truly believed that my jailor-witch was my mother. I fled, back to her arms."

I, I who had always lived in the soft security of my parent's protection suddenly felt ashamed. I had judged the princess, I had decided she unworthy of my attention, due only to what I had guessed of her - her lack of acumen, of adventurous spirit. I had been proven badly wrong and for the first time I considered if perhaps my pride were more of a hindrance than a badge of honor.

"I'm sorry," was all I could say, my apple lying tasteless in my grasp.

"No, no... My story doesn't end there!" She said. Then she squirmed with laughter and wriggled. "Sorry, there's someone you have to meet." She giggled more and flapped her arm and then, all of a sudden, a little green face with wide eyes was peering at me from her sleeve. I jumped, startled but not scared. I peered down at the reptile, lying in Rapunzel's palm and frowned.

"What is that? Is it a frog?" I said eventually, after I had examined the creature for a long time.

"He's a chameleon! This weather is far too cold for him so he hides in the shoulder of my dress. His name's Pascal. Say hello to him!"

Warily I reached out and stroked the creature's dry, smooth skin. I remembered the way her horse, Maximus, had growled at me after all. But the chameleon - Pascal, simply let himself be stroked and made a 'ribbet' sound in his throat, regarding me with lazy eyes. I was used to frogs - in wet weather they were everywhere on our lands, hopping and croaking fit to raise the devil himself. But a chameleon I had never seen. Where did Rapunzel find all these animals? She cradled the cold reptile in her hands and breathed on him before continuing with her story.

"As I said, I fled back to the woman I believed to be my mother. Foolishly I told her what had happened, and the way she reacted... Well, that is when it dawned upon me, I saw the light, so to speak... I was the Princess. I had been kidnapped at birth and forced to forestall this witch's aging through the gift my hair leant me." Rapunzel shuddered. "So I removed from her grasp the one thing that made me valuable to her. When my hair is cut, it dies. The magical properties are no more. I sawed it from my head with broken glass and knotted it into a rope ladder. As I cut it, I heard my false-mother scream, for too long she had kept herself alive with magic and trickery. The years piled on faster than I could blink - she was dust and ashes in seconds." Rapunzel looked at me. "Then I returned home." Her green-eyed stare was unwavering as she said finally, "And I became a princess."


	4. Chapter 4

So there it was, laid out in black and white, the story of her life. She had bared all to me and I was humbled.

"I'm sorry." It was all I could say, hopelessly inadequate.

"No! No, don't be sorry." She smiled at me. "If those years as a prisoner made me as fearless and adventurous as I am today, then they were worth it."

"What's your weapon of choice?" I asked her as I bit into the apple again. "I'm an archer meself, but I'm not half bad with a sword either. My Da trained me until my Mum asked him not too. I miss it like crazy and I practice whenever I can - that is, whenever she's not looking."

"My weapon of choice?" Rapunzel mused for a while. "I've never really used one. I used a frying pan to defend myself once. Cast iron knocks a man out like nothing else."

"A frying pan?" I repeated. "Now certainly that's not something I've tried before."

She hummed in agreement, and we fell silent for a while, all topics of conversation I had been taught by me mam completely useless.

So like I said, we just sat there a while, up on the castle roof and we stared at the swirling stars, like honey poured onto porridge, or cream into soup. They spiraled above us like diamonds in this thick, velvet cloak thrown out against the sky. It was getting chill but I didn't notice it at the time seeing as how I was getting into thinking how small I was compared to all this mightiness. Then a little sneeze at my side reminded me that perhaps my guest was getting cold, unused as she was to our fresh, bracing air. In a sec I had her back inside, back to her chambers, though it took an awful lot of will to tear meself away from the aching blackness of the night sky. I curtsied real nice and said night to her and to the chameleon (which I still couldn't quite wrap me head round) and strode back to my room, pretty well pleased with myself and with the princess I had so under-estimated.

My, she was braver than me!

As I lay in my bed, desperately trying to warm my toes up (they get really cold at night, no matter how many blankets and woolen socks I put on) I thought about the War-that-could-be and wondered if my father had managed to find an arrangement with the King Stefan, see if we could band together and scare off the southern King. Goodness I hoped he had, with all my heart I truly did. My greatest fear was that I would lose my father and my brothers and even my mother, for all the arguments that we had. That all that I loved would be stripped bare and taken from me, and I would be left without anything, without family or home or love.

Now there is a great reason why you should not think scary thoughts before going to bed because that night I dreamt a dream of Dunbroch Castle, my lands and my home, aflame in terror and misery. It was so real, I could smell the acrid stench of smoke on the air and taste that same metallic taste of blood and fear all mixed together in a stomach turning mouthful that remained when I awoke. I think it was then that I knew the War-that-could-be would become the War-that-was. Ma ha' told me once that there was some of the witch-blood in her line. One of her great-grandmothers had been blessed (or cursed I saw it) with the ability to sense what was to come. Only this mad old woman used to feel it in her bones, and when some thing bad was coming she'd moan something dreadful about the pain in her joints. At the time me and mam had had a good old laugh about it, it being one of the rare times we weren't clawing each other's throats out over some petty misunderstanding. We'd wiped tears from our eyes thinking about how her knees went if it was rain, and it was her fingers if there were a problem with the harvest. Right now however, in my ice-cold bedroom, I didn't feel much like laughing. All my bones ached, from my skull right down to my toes, like I'd been clenching all my muscles so hard my bones had hardened with them.

I pulled the furs around me, closer, closer. It was as though I were trying to ward off evil spirits by pulling in the soft grey fur of the dead rabbits that formed my coverlet. I'd never been happy about the rabbit furs on my bed. Me ma and dad had a giant bear skin (folk called it a demon before my father beat it in battle) covering theirs, and it was more honorable, I thought, because at least they won the right to keep it on their bed. The rabbits on mine were babes, drowned in their den in the rains last spring. I'd seen one of the groundsmen carrying them back to the castle all wet and dripping, by their hind legs, limp ears drooping. I shuddered and kicked the furs back off. Death was too close tonight. It reeked.

My keen ears (used to all the noises of the castle) picked up the softest tread of foot outside my door. I had no weapons on me, mother wouldn't allow them in the bedroom, but I curled my hands into fists in preparation and slipped slowly out of bed. The door creaked open, the barest light of a candle shining too bright in the dimness of the room.

'Oh!' I dropped my hands. 'It's you!'

It was Rapunzel, bare footed as always. "I couldn't sleep." She whispered. "The castle groans at me."

Dunbroch Castle did groan, but years of living in it had made me immune to the noise. Also, though we were superstitious folk up here in the north, we well knew the difference between the ghouls and souls of the wronged dead, and the simple sound of a castle groaning itself into comfort in the dark peat of our lands. But I shoved up in bed and made room for Rapunzel, patting the spot next to me like I was asking one of father's mutts to get up beside me. She folded gracefully into the space and slipped her toes under one of the blankets. I heard her sigh, most likely as the feeling came back to her toes.

"Merida," she said, very seriously. I hummed, just to let her know I was listening, but really I was slipping into a drowsy sleep; feeling a little safer now Rapunzel and her candle were warding off the bad thoughts I'd been having. "I think we should ride south."

Well that woke me up faster than a bucket of water being tipped over my head (and I speak from experience, because my mother has tried every method of getting me out of bed. And I mean _every_) "Ride South?" I repeated, like a big dumb fool.

"Yes." Rapunzel's mouth was stretched wide and thin and firm. "And we should kill the southern King."

Sorry this was so short guys, I've just finished my first term at university and I literally didn't have time to write a word :( Thanks for everyone who's read it so far and I hope you haven't given up on me. Reviews are always welcome!


	5. Chapter 5

It was ridiculous, looking back on it now, that we (two girls of barely eighteen years, one slighter than a willow branch and I clumsy as a blind goat) could take on the ride south to the mouth of the Great River and kill the King that lived in his palace built from the labour of his thousand serfs, protected by the most rigidly trained soldiers our countries had ever seen. Yet perhaps sense does not enter gladly into the minds of sleep-deprived and furious young women because less than four minutes after Rapunzel had first mentioned her plan, we were packing clothes into leather satchels, trying all the while not to wake my ma and da, who slept in the next room.

Rapunzel disappeared for a while, then returned with a tied sack in one hand and a water skin in the other. "Provisions for the journey" she whispered, stuffing the bundle in amongst her rapidly folded clothes. I flung her a cloak and a pair of stiff boots, lacing up my own as I did so. "You'll be cold on the hoss girl, cover up!" I hissed, fearful she would catch something if she didn't do as I said.

Not daring to walk through the castle in boots, we shimmied down the outside wall, saddlebags flung across our necks. I was dressed in dark green wool, and my black cape shielded me from any prying eye, any sentries that my father might have set to stand guard. The cloak I had leant Rapunzel was a midnight blue, and even I could hardly see her as she climbed down the cracks in the wall more stealthily than I. We were crossing the downtrodden grass to the stables when a sudden thought struck me. Beckoning to Rapunzel I slunk across the path to the south tower where my father had built the castle armory four years ago; this was where every bow, sword, axe, mace, shield in the place was kept. Being me, I had naturally swiped a key from him when his eyes were elsewhere and it was one of my treasured possessions. This little thing had kept me from losing my skill with bow and sword when my mother had begged for an end to my lessons.

Once in the room, I seized the only lit torch from its bracket in the wall and slowly lit others. A creak of the door at my back told me Rapunzel had sneaked in.

"We'll need weapons 'Punzel" I whispered to her, sweeping my hair out of my eyes as I bent low. We needed something my father and his men wouldn't miss much. Unfortunately, this meant his best swords; Artmael, Gorobach and Fretwenar were out of the question. I'd long envied those, made by skill now lost to the smiths of Dunbroch. They'd been handed down my Father's father's father, if not from further down the line. Their names were engraved in their hilts; it was said they were the names of the demon bears their swords had vanquished. Artmael was a huge two-handed monstrosity, the one my father preferred to wield in battle. I'd heard the sight of it and the roar of its name could break a man's courage, or rally him to my father's cause. The others were destined for my brothers when they came of age. No sword would be given to me, though I was the eldest. Being born a woman does these things. But towards the back there were some lightweight leather shields, nothing special. Mine I chose for the crude sketch of a roaring bear on the front in white paint. I believed maybe it would give me luck, Rapunzel's bore a flaming sun. My bow, a quiver full of arrows and a bag of heads should I need them. Then the sword I'd always used, because it fitted me well and the leather around the bone handle had become soft with my sweat over the years and moved to the imprint of my hand. Never would I find a more comfortable sword. The sword had never been named, never had it performed great deeds, but I called it Cas, which in our tongue meant paw. Not a grand name, but it seemed right to me.

I lit another torch now, for this area furthest from the door was in darkness. Behind a weapons rack something stirred. Behind me Rapunzel squeaked and I clutched Cas closer to me, holding it aloft. The thing, whatever it was, stumbled to its feet, growling... Growling, or was that yawning? Then the creature came into the light and it revealed itself as none other than the stable boy Baran, who had been sleeping on a on heap of sandbags that had been stored here since the rains of last autumn.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed lowering Cas and glaring at him.

"I could ask you the same question," he answered blearily, rubbing his eyes. He slumped back into a sitting position. Next to me Rapunzel sidled closer now that the creature had revealed itself not to be a threat. She smiled at Baran shyly and he grinned back.

"Oh my head!" He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I feel like me Da's been banging on it with that hammer of his."

"Serves you right for drinking too much ale and getting drunk." I said huffily. "Why are you out here?" I asked again

"I fell asleep in the stables after you left." He said "Then when I woke up, the castle doors were locked. I remembered hauling sandbags in here last autumn and so I reckoned it may be a nice place to sleep." He patted the sandbag next to him. "It weren't bad neither." He said appraisingly. This was when he suddenly realized I was here, at what was maybe the middle of the night, armed to the teeth and with me traveling cloak on. I gulped as he gave me a stern look.

"Princess Merida, would you like to explain yerself, and kindly tell me what you're thinking of doing, armed mightier than most would think habitual in a lady of your standing?" He drew himself up to his full height, far above my head. I had to crane my neck to look up at him. When had he got so tall? Only last summer he was barely an inch above me, and now he seemed to fill the arched-ceilinged armory. I shared a worried glance with Rapunzel behind me. I would have to tell him the truth.

"Baran, don't..." I started

"Just tell me Merida" He said, glowering.

"We're riding south." I said and he knew. "It's not your place Princess." He growled, eyes narrowed.

"It's my kingdom, our kingdoms," I protested, as Rapunzel stood with me, shoulder to shoulder.

"It's your father's kingdom Merida. And after that it will be your brothers'. You belong to it, but you cannot decide its fate!"

There was a stunned, shocked silence. I felt tears mass before my eyes, but I blinked them away angrily.

"Then, as a subject of my King, I shall do my duty and remove the threat from the South." I clenched my jaw as Baran's face dropped its stern look.

"Then let me come with you." He said grimly. "I too, can do my duty as your father's subject." He grinned "And two ladies, and princesses at that, will always need protecting."

I snorted, and even Rapunzel smirked a little by my side.

"We don't need your help Baran." I said. "We can fend for ourselves."

"When was the last time you had a sword lesson Princess? Look at how tall I am against you, and I am taller still than the Princess Rapunzel. Yet still I am not the tallest, nor the largest man you will meet on the road who wishes you ill. Allow me to help you, at least to the Wall and I will ask no more."

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"We can tell people I'm your brother, Rapunzel a friend, we ride South to an aunt. A man armed on the road is no oddity."

Against my wishes I began to see the wisdom of Baran's plan. Two women alone on the road would draw attention, no doubt. Particularly I, with the Dunbroch-flame hair that marked me out better than a target on an archery butt.

"Alright Baran." I have made up my mind. You may come with us. But only to the Wall. And I am at all times..." He opened his mouth but I held a finger up. "Eyp! I am at all times, in charge. The leader. What I say, goes. Understand?"

"Yes Princess." Baran smirked at me.

I turned and picked a sword out for Rapunzel and cast it to her. She dropped it immediately.

"It's so heavy," she said, embarrassed. Stooping to pick it up, she struggled again with its weight. The sword was too much for her, too heavy, too long.

"Baran, help me." I muttered. "The sword is too long"

He ducked down to take a look at it. "No it isn't." He laughed. "She's too small. Get her a knife." He stumbled out from the sandbags and scrambled through the assorted weapons and sheaths that lay cluttered and forgotten beneath the racks.

"Here," he said finally, producing a long, thin blade with a leather handle. "They used to use this to accustom your father's men to swords, when they started young. Now they just use wooden ones, him getting fed up with 'em losing so many fingers." Baran cast this over his shoulder, laughing as he searched for a sheath to fit the pale blade.

"Does it have a name?" Rapunzel asked shyly.

"No Princess, tis rare that blades have names, and a training blade will never see deeds the like would earn it one."

She nodded and gulped, but strapped the knife to her waist all the same as Baran collected weapons and armour for himself.

It was a while later that we left the dusty and disordered room, remembering to extinguish the torches and lock the door when we had crept out. Back across the dew-wet grass to the stables that clung to the mossed castle walls we crept, conscious that the sky had a pink tinge upon it and we knew that dawn could not be far off. We saddled our horses in a tense silence, Baran only taking Narach at my insistence that she would not be missed. As I slung my saddlebags over Angus he whinnied, craning his great shaggy head to nudge me. He knew something was wrong; every muscle in my body was strained tighter than a taut bowstring. Horses are clever, specially Angus, and he could feel my fear from the way I walked and the way I stroked him. Twice I buckled his stirrups too tight and he became unsettled.

Finally we led the horses out in the fresh dawn air, Angus subdued, Narach tempestuous and Maximus shivering in the cold, he not shaggily covered like our northern horses. We went on foot across the grounds, across the bridge and only once we were upon the northern road did we mount our steeds and make fast for the south. The sun rose, slowly as it does in the highlands, a weak yellow ball that gave little warmth and less comfort. Riding hard meant the wind whipped us, despite the woolen cloak I had wrapped around me. The hood continued to blow down, my hair flying free of the ties I had attempted to use to restrain it. Next to me Baran sat comfortably in Narach's saddle, leaning forward over her neck and crooning into the horse's ear as she galloped. Rapunzel and Maximus rode as one body, the cloak I had lent her covering them both. The landscape became aglow as the sun rose higher in the sky, the soft heather of the rolling moors a vibrant purple. The land here was flat, covered in bristly plants, tussocks and low bushes that lay just too low to see. There were no mountains for many leagues and I could see far to the south. Angus threw his head back and whinnied, loving the adventure and the freedom to gallop as fast as he often longed to. I knew before long we would come to the edge of the moors, the beginning of the grasslands. There began Dingwall lands.

Though Dingwall was one of the Quartered Tribes, and its clan chief owed allegiance to my father, one could not truly know how deep his loyalty ran and I did not care to test it. We would skirt the Keep itself, staying to the edges of the grasslands and avoiding the mouth of the sea. I planned go West, through Blackmuir Forest and then South, south over the foothills and to Loch Ness. There my knowledge of our land, grasped from my father's maps, was at an end and I would need to find another map, in order that I might guess the best path to the Wall. But for now I was happy, sure and secure that I knew the road I was on as well as the back of my hand. And these lands were beautiful. We stopped for lunch, sheltered from the road by a great mound upon which grew small yellow flowers among the purple bracken. Baran wanted to fry bacon, but I reprimanded him. My parents, and Rapunzel's, would have awoken by now. They would have noticed us missing and sent out search parties. First they would check the grounds, but then, the stables and then… To light a fire would be to draw them to us and this I could not risk.


End file.
